


too close for comfort

by orphan_account



Category: Yellowstone (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Nightmares, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:40:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25842973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The memory of Tate screaming, huddled up in the corner as he violently swung his arms around haunted Kayce’s brain. He doesn’t think he’s ever saw his son that scared before in his life. They killed both of the perpetrators who were responsible for taking Tate, but Kayce was still angry and fucking pissed that someone inflicted this much pain onto his son that he was having nightmares and wouldn’t talk about what happened to him.—or a missing scene between kayce and his family as they still struggle with the aftermath of tate’s kidnapping.
Relationships: Kayce Dutton & Monica Long, Kayce Dutton/Monica Dutton
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	too close for comfort

Monica laid wide awake, her eyes stared vacantly at the umber colored ceilings. Kayce was next to her, his arm wound securely around her petite body as he was lulled into a deep slumber. Monica diverted her gaze from the ceiling in favor of looking at Kayce.   
  
Albeit he was sleeping, the features on his face were slightly furrowed, his pink lips were jutted in a moue frown. The crease of skin between his eyebrows deepened in discomfort as his body started to tremor with the shakes. “It’s okay,” She whispers lowly, her hand reaches upward and strokes comfortingly against his cheek. She continued to whisper her litany of appraisals hoping that she veered him away from whatever thoughts were haunting him. 

“T-Tate,” He says, throat dry and raspy from sleep. At first, Monica thinks he’s having a nightmare about Tate but when she looks up and sees his heavy, bleary eyes staring back at him she realizes that he’s asking where their son is.

“He’s in his room, remember baby?” She answers, hoping that her voice isn’t trembling with fear. This isn’t the first night that either one or both of them had woken up in a startled frenzy worrying about Tate and his safety. Since the kidnapping they’ve been on edge, watching him attentively and making sure he isn’t alone more than he needs to be. It had been five days since Kayce brought Tate home, and since then Monica hadn’t gotten a good nights sleep.

She was too on edge, paranoid, _worried_ that something would happen to him again if she closed her eyes even for one second. The first few nights he slept in their bed squished in between them, curled against Monica’s side with Kayce’s arm wrapped tightly around them both.   
  
He would be soundly asleep, shielded in protection by both of his parents. Until, the nightmares began to terrorize him. Tate would wake up screaming so loudly that it would rouse everyone in the house; Beth and Jamie ran into their room, out of breath, eyes widened with worry the first time Tate had a nightmare. His body shook viciously and his eyes were squeezed shut as the loud uproar of screams wretched out of his mouth. 

It took nearly half an hour of coaxing and reassuring to calm him down. Even then he was apprehensive about going back to sleep so Monica and Kayce would lie awake with him. After the fourth night, Tate assured his parents that he was fine to sleep in his own bed again. Much to both of their trepidation, they allowed him his wanting of returning back to his own room. 

Monica and Kayce laid wide awake, waiting for him to call out their name or sneakily climb his way into their bed. But as the hours ticked by, Tate still hadn’t come. Worried that something probably happened, Kayce walked down the hall to peek in his bedroom to make sure that everything was okay. When he peered around the ajar bedroom door, Tate was in bed curled underneath his covers in a deep sleep.   
  
Kayce stealthily walked into his son’s bedroom, careful to not wake him. He squatted down next to Tate’s bed as he watched him sleep. He swallowed thickly, as a lump formed in the back of his throat. He quickly blinked away the foggy tears that were blurring his vision. He couldn’t even stomach thinking about what Tate had to endure when he was kidnapped, how absolutely _terrified_ he was by the sudden ambush as his kidnappers took him away. His jaw clenched, hands curled into tight fists when he looked down at Tate and saw his buzz cut hair. 

The memory of Tate screaming, huddled up in the corner as he violently swung his arms around haunted Kayce’s brain. He doesn’t think he’s ever saw his son _that_ scared before in his life. They killed both of the perpetrators who were responsible for taking Tate, but Kayce was still angry and fucking pissed that someone inflicted this much pain onto his son that he was having nightmares and wouldn’t talk about what happened to him.   
  
If he could, he would kill those bastards again and again until the pain stopped tormenting Tate. But Tate was back home now and safe with both him and Monica, that’s all that mattered. Running a hand over his frizzy hair, Kayce sighs softly before leaning forward to press a kiss against Tate’s forehead.   
  
“Sleep tight, buddy.”   
  


When Kayce returned back to their bedroom, Monica quickly sat up on the bed and looked behind him in search of Tate. “He’s not coming?”   
  
“He’s still sleep surprisingly.”   
  


Kayce drew back the duvet and crawled back into bed, snuggling up next to Monica. Her back was against his chest, his arms wrapped around her body. He pressed a kiss against her bare shoulder, allowing his lips to linger there for a brief moment. “Mon?” He asks, voice just above a shy whisper so quiet that she almost doesn’t hear it.   
  
“Yeah?” 

Kayce’s quiet for a brief moment almost as if he’s debating his next words with a careful trepidation. “Did you mean it?”  
Confused by his inquiry, Monica shifts and twists herself around in his arms so that she’s now facing him. His face is furrowed in a frown, his eyes glimmering with a sad solemnity. “Did I mean what, baby?”   
  
“ _That_ ,” He answers, further elaborating when he sees Monica’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “That you want more w-with me, kids. I-” He diverts his eyes away from hers as he shakes his head. “Sometimes I feel like I’m doing a shitty job with Tate I don’t know if I’ll be a good father to more kids if we ever have them. I’d be such a disappointment to them, to you. I’ve let you and Tate down so many times, Monica. I almost lost you because I was too scared to fight for us. Tate got kidnapped because of m–”

“Hey!” Monica interjects, her hands reaching upward to cup his face. She tilts his head up so that they’re meeting each other’s gazes again. “You are a good father, Kayce. Yes, you’ve made mistakes in the past but so have I. We’re not perfect, no one is. You can’t blame yourself for that or for Tate getting kidnapped. That’s no ones fault but those assholes who decided to take him. You are a good father, Kayce.” She reiterated, enunciating every words so that he understood that she meant every last word. “Of course I want more kids with you. I want everything with you. You’re my husband, my soul mate. I love you more than anything.” She says with such an imbued sincerity that it causes hot, salty tears to pool from Kayce’s eyes.   
  
Monica held him as he cried, she occasionally wiped away a few of her own tears that sneakily slid down her cheek. Kayce fell asleep after that while Monica still laid awake.   
  
She moved closer to him, curling herself around his body as her head rested against his chest listening to his heartbeat. His callused hands ran up and down her back, tracing gentle circles against the smooth skin. Kayce harrumphed lowly before speaking. 

“M’sorry for being all emotional earlier,” He laments, chewing on his inner cheek as he looked down at her. Kayce typically wasn’t too keen on talking about or sharing his emotions with anyone. That just wasn’t what his family did. They were taught to keep everything sheltered in until they inevitably exploded. It wasn’t healthy by any means. Monica was still helping him work through that toxic idiosyncrasy.   
  
“It’s okay. I want you to talk to me about these things, Kayce. We both need to be better at it.” She reassured him. She lifted her head and looked at him; he still looked despondent. Though it was dark she could see his eyes flicker down to her lips then back up at her eyes. She smiled softly as she leaned forward. 

He met her wanton lips halfway, the kiss was soft and kinda chaste. Monica tilted her head to deepen the kiss and to gain better access of his lips. Kayce succumbed to her ravenous onslaught and placed his hands on her waist, lifting her up and settling her down on his lap so that she was straddling his waist. 

Their kiss was a mesh of wet lips, heavy breathing and hasty hands touching the other’s body everywhere. Monica gyrated her hips against his lap, causing Kayce to groan. “Monica,” he murmurs against her lips, hands beginning to roughly tug her underwear down her legs until;

“Mommy? Daddy?” They both halted their movements at the sound of Tate’s voice outside of their bedroom door. He knocked softly, waiting for their response.   
  
“Yeah, buddy?” Kayce answers, propping himself up on his elbows as he looked towards the door.

Monica slid herself off of Kayce’s lap and reached over to grab her night robe. She slid her arms through it and tied the belt around her body before trotting towards the door. She opened it to see Tate standing there, rubbing his eyes and whimpering softly.   
  
“Come on. You can sleep in here with us.” Monica extended her hand out to Tate which he avidly accepted. They both sauntered back to the bed where Kayce was waiting for both of them.   
  
“Here you can squeeze right here between the both of us.” He said as he scooted over to make room for the both of them. Tate climbed up on the bed and settled himself between his parents. His head rested against Monica’s shoulder.   
  
“Can I sleep in here tomorrow too?” 

“You can sleep in here however long you want, buddy.” Kayce replies, kissing the top of Tate’s head. 


End file.
